Distractions

As I sat on the loo this morning two fat, cocky jackdaws strutted not four feet away across the low roof beside me. They were flicking off the clumps of moss that grow among the tiles, searching underneath each one for insects or grubs. An untidy mess had appeared on the path beneath. So that's how it happens. But I've never seen jackdaws here before, and never so close up anywhere, and I had to admire their chutzpah. Other birds were whizzing to and fro with pieces of grass, twigs, straw in their beaks, but surely they are not nest building on the last day of September? These are mainly blackbirds, though I saw a robin engaged in the same activity. Blow me down, I said to Hugo lying patiently on the landing behind the half-opened door. You learn something new every day. But all he really wants to know is when we're going to have a proper, thrilling walk again where he can follow delicious scents and fly after wood pigeons and maybe a rabbit, and I can't tell him that. I walked along the top of the field with him again this morning wondering if I might be feeling better, but when I got home again I lay down in the summerhouse and fell asleep.

These days are wonderful, such an unexpected gift. The trees have barely started turning brown yet, and the ground remains clear of leaves. Even in my denuded state I can appreciate the continuing warmth, the clear skies, though the dark evenings still take me by surprise. Last night I watched the first episode of series three of The Fall, and though the evil Paul Spector was bullet-ridden and unconscious in hospital under an oxygen mask he managed to evoke a feeling of muted terror, crawling unease. Why were there no guards watching over him, slippery customer that he is, just a grim Gillian Anderson pacing the corridors in blood-stained clothes? When Hugo suddenly sat up and stared at the uncurtained window I felt myself freeze. "Women tend not to do fight or flight, they are too frightened," the Anderson character told the surviving victim's husband. Quite so. I watched in growing horror as Spector was placed in intensive care just yards away from his last victim, attended only by a nurse, and my heart raced as I waited to see what would happen. The tension was nearly unbearable. When the phone rang on the dot of ten as the credits rolled I nearly jumped out of my skin, and and had to wait several minutes to get my breath back under control before returning the call. Phew, I kept saying to my bemused friend when we finally spoke, gosh.

Back to earth, I'm now taking vitamins C and D, Manuka honey, regular hot lemon drinks, paracetamol, Metatone, Pro Em San, live yogurt, and the three daily almonds a friend swears by. These are all intended to boost my immune system and get me up and running again. But as of today, a week after it began, the score is still Bug 1, Denise 0.